


The most

by huffletiika



Series: The Pack Survives [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya comes back, Based on Miley Cyrus song, F/M, Game of Thrones Fix-It, I couldn't help myself, Post-Canon Fix-It, Reunion, it's been 5 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffletiika/pseuds/huffletiika
Summary: Gendry has been the lord of Storm's End for five years already, trying to do his best for the welfare of his people, and living with the memory of the person he loved the most.Five years after she left Westeros, Arya comes back home. She has a sole purpose: apologizing to the person who loved her the most, and whose heart she broke.Based on The Most, by Miley Cyrus.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: The Pack Survives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653001
Comments: 15
Kudos: 156





	The most

_This winter was as cold as you and I_

_I know you're home, hoping I'm alright_

_How many times have I left you in the deep?_

_I don't know why you still believe in me._

_And even in my darkest days,_

_even in my lowest place, y_ _ou love me the most._

_And even when I can't stay,_

_even when I run away, y_ _ou love me the most_

It’s been one of _those_ days for him, the ones you want to get rid of as soon as possible, but that seems to have no plans to end any time soon. And it’s not like he is saying the other days that have passed since he became the Lord de Storm’s End haven’t been very close to what he could describe as hell, each one of those one thousand and eight hundred twenty-four have done their duty (yes, it seems he is very good at counting), specially those first ones when he had no idea what to do.

Those days when he wished she was there to guide him.

But she wasn’t.

She isn’t.

And he had to continue his life as he promised her he would do.

Sometimes he thinks about her, mostly when the day had come to an end and he found himself alone lying on his mattress, emptily looking at the ceiling of his chambers, without the lords lurking around asking for his opinions on stuff he barely understands about, and the maester trying to teach him how to write and speak properly, because apparently a Lord can’t go around speaking as the common folk does.

He thinks about those moments they spent together at King’s Road and Winterfell, and wonders about her whereabouts nowadays. Is she safe? Is she happy with her choices? Has she discovered any newer lands? Does she ever think about him as he does think about her? Has she found someone else on her trip to fall in love with? The last question usually causes his guts to wallow in discontent, and makes him hate himself.

He had her, and his foolishness made him lose her.

_... _

He never expected to have this, all of this, he pretty well knew his whole life that he was a bastard without a last name, that he was never going to live in a castle, and much less that people would call him a Lord. And he was good with that. But there he was, living a life he felt like someone else’s, and without the person he accepted all this for. Because in his naive mind he thought that the only way she, a highborn, could be with him, a Bastard worth less than any other common folk, would be being legitimized. But Arya Stark wasn’t as any other highborn, and the think he thought would allow them to be together, was the one that broke them apart.

She wasn’t a lady, he knew that, and still made the stupid damn question.

When he had sobered enough to recognize his mistake, he had looked for her around what has been left of Winterfell. He needed to apologize, to tell her he didn’t want a _lady_, that he just wanted to be by her side no matter where, no matter how, or as what. They could go to Storm’s End to reign together as equals, if that’s what she desired, or they could run away to the forest as friends or lovers, whatever she wanted, as long as they were together. But she was nowhere to be seen, not even her sister knew where she was, and when he asked Bran, he cryptically replied that she still had a name on her list.

_Cersei_.

He knew exactly where she was: she had run away to kill the queen, and even if he had considered to follow her and make her see how stupid she was for risking herself like that, he didn’t.

She had made her decision.

The next time he saw her was at Kings Landing, and he was so relieved she was alive he almost forgot he had to give his agreement at the choosing of the new king.

At some moments their eyes met, and he felt his heart rate increasing as if it threatened to set free from his ribcage, but his pride didn’t allow him to get close and surround her with his arms, or even just talk, tell her those things that had been left untold when she left Winterfell.

Then, she was gone.

She sailed in a ship westward, and he couldn’t say goodbye.

Years have passed since then, and he only knows about her because of what is said about her conquests, or from King Brandon, when he goes to King’s Landing to be part of any council. Though, the most he gets from the regent of the six kingdoms is a confirmation of her being alive, nothing else. That guy doesn’t talk much, does he?

For a couple of years, he had kept some hope of getting a raven from her, but as time passed by without a word from her, it disappeared, and he just continued with his life.

_... _

He entered to the council room, there were most of the lords of the Storm’s Lands reunited, making petitions about their properties, doing all they could to get him to favor them about their wishes. When he was younger, he hated high-born people as much as he could hate anyone, being _her_ the only exception, but lately he has started to appreciate the people around him.

Lord Selwyn of Tarth was one of his biggest supporters when he arrived to Storm’s Lands, saying he looked very much like his father in his young, but that his ways with people were more like Renly’s, or even Stannis. He decided to take it as a compliment for the way he said it, even if his only interaction with the latest was him using his blood to make some kind of magic to kill other kings. One of them being Arya’s older brother. And with his support, the rest of the lords decided he was worth ruling at Storm’s End, and confirmed their support to the house of Baratheon.

When the reunion was about to end, a young boy from house Morrigen, who was part of his guard, entered to the room and whispered something to Ser Davos’ ear, who came to meet him at his place at the table.

“The boy says there’s someone looking for you”, Ser Davos told him, low enough to not call the attention of the rest of the lords. “A woman”, he added.

Confused, he frowned.

“I’m not expecting any visit”, he replied, before calling the meeting to an end, and waited for all the lords to leave before looking back at Davos. “Did he say the woman’s name?”

“She only said you were childhood friends, that you traveled together for a while”, he explained, Gendry’s heart started to increase its rate. It couldn’t be her, could it? Someone was playing a big joke on him.

“You’re good?” Ser Davos asked, as he saw him go white as parchment.

“Yes, of course”, he replied, telling himself that it couldn’t be actually Arya, that he would have heard something about her arriving to Westeros from any of her siblings. Also, wouldn’t the guards recognize her? There were songs about her written all around the kingdom, and people knew she was the one who saved them all from the dead.

And, well… in case there was a possibility of her looking as different so no one could recognize her, why would she come to Storm’s End? She left, she ran away, and never contacted him again. It couldn’t be her, but still, his heart still loved her as much as to let some hope grow inside.

Maybe that was a curse he shared with his father: loving a Stark girl until his deathbed.

He sighed.

“And, where is she?” Gendry asked, walking out the room with Ser Davos by his side.

“That’s the problem, my Lord”, the eldest responded, with a shrug. “The girl said she knew where to find you, and disappeared from the sight of the guard, as a ghost”.

He stopped suddenly.

“She said that?” he asked, and Ser Davos nodded.

“But it seems like she actually didn’t, as she is not here… right? I will ask a guard to stay with you all the time, it might be dang-”

He interrupted him. “It’s fine”, he said, feeling his guts wallow. “There’s no need for that”.

Without further explanation he started to walk, knowing very well where to go, feeling his hands shaking at every step he took.

_... _

There she was, her back to him, looking at the fire of the forge. And even if she hadn’t moved a single muscle, he knew she knew he was there.

He was speechless.

He had rehearsed all the words he would say to her if he ever got to see her again, but at that moment, all those words seemed to have evaporated from his throat. So, he just laid his back at the stone, and waited for her to speak first. If she was there, then she had something important to say.

“I was wrong, you weren’t here”, she said, still not facing him. Her voice sounded different, more mature, but he still could recognize it anywhere.

“I was in a meeting with the lords. Otherwise, you would have found me here”, he replied, his back still against the wall. Most of the time, when he wasn’t at meetings, or at his classes, he would spend days and nights in the forge. That place felt more like his chambers, than his actual chambers. There were many young boys and girls from the village who were eager to learn how to forge, and he was glad to teach them everything he knew, as to give the smallfolk jobs and a better quality of life.

“Your hair is longer”, he observed, as now she wore a long braid that reached her lower back, and that finally made her turn to see him with a soft smile.

The air left his lungs.

She was gorgeous.

Not that she wasn’t before, but now… no memory he kept in his head from her could compare to her _actually_ being there in front of him. She was different, years had made her features more mature, but it was still her, even if there were scars that he could easily identify as new.

“Yours too”, she replied, and he couldn’t help but take his hand to his hair, and mess it a little. “It looks good,” she added, and he felt his nervousness increase.

“You look good too”.

“Why are you here?” he had to ask after silence covered them for a while. She seemed to be nervous, and that was something new for him, as he always saw her collected and sure, no matter the situation.

“I-” she started, and then sighed. “I needed to talk to you”.

“Really? Because one might think that if someone wants to talk with someone else, they would have… I don’t know, sent a letter, or come earlier”, his hurt spoke before him could stop himself. “It’s been five years”, he added, lower.

She stayed silent for a couple of minutes, that seemed to last forever.

“I wish I could have come earlier, but I was…” she motioned at the direction where the sea was. “And I did write you”, she finally said, looking at his eyes, grey meeting blue with such intensity he felt like he would break at any moment. “But I couldn’t send the letters, so they are somewhere at bottom of the sea, I think”, she explained. “I had to tell you this in person”.

“And what’s that?” he wanted to know, and she let out a long sigh.

“I came to apologize”, she said.

During the whole conversation, they hadn’t moved from where they were at the beginning of it, but now she took a step closer to him, and then another.

“That night, at Winterfell, I was sure I was going to die whether I killed the Queen or not, and I couldn’t drag you down with me. Not you. I loved you so much to let you follow the path I was taking, or to give you any hope that I would be back. You deserved better than mourning me, you deserved a family, and I couldn’t be that for you”.

_I loved you_, her words repeated in his head again and again.

She loved him.

“But then I survived, The Hound told me to live, and the first thing that came to my mind in that moment was you, and my family, and how much I wanted to see you again, and that gave me a reason to fight, to escape from that burning city, and I did”, she concluded.

“But still you left”, he said, bitterly.

“I left”, she agreed, with a nod. “At that council, I saw my younger brother become the king of the six kingdoms, my sister the queen at the north, and Jon sentenced to go back to the wall. They had a different life now, we weren’t a pack anymore, they didn’t need me”.

“I needed you”, he said, without hesitation.

She let out a sad laugh.

“No, you didn’t”, Arya looked at his eyes. “I saw you there, the new lord of Storm’s End, all mighty and handsome being part of a council of the seven kingdoms. Well, six. And I knew I didn’t deserve you, that you could find someone to love, someone who could give you everything I couldn’t. Someone whole, who could give you her heart, not just pieces”. Her eyes started watering, and his hands wished they could touch her face to wipe her tears away. It’s been ages since last time he saw her like this. “They call Bran ‘_The Broken_’, but it might be something everyone should be calling us the Starks, because somehow, we all could bare that tittle pretty well. I was broken, and you deserved more than that…”

“Don’t I have I said of what I deserve?” he frowned. “Or what I want?”

He finally moved away from the wall.

“I wanted you, broken or not. I wanted Arry from the king’s road, who told me that she could be my family, and who was eager to fight the red woman when she took me away. I wanted Arya, who asked me to be her first man when death was coming for us, and who killed the Night King with a dagger straight to his chest. The one who saved us all. I wanted to be with the girl who hated to be called a lady, the only one I would ever bend the knee for, the only one I would love forever” he stared at her, waiting for her reaction.

_Your tender touch is the healing that I seek_

_I come to you when my judgement becomes weak_

_All that you are is all I ever need_

_I don't know why you still believe in me_

_Oh, and even in my darkest days, _

_even in my lowest place, y_ _ou love me the most_

_And even when I can't stay, even when I run away_

_You love me the most._

“You still love me?” she whispered, taken aback.

“Aye”, he said, without hesitation. He knew he was about to get his heart broken again by Arya Stark, but he couldn’t just deny what was obvious. Also, lying wasn’t something he’s good at, not with her, at least. “But, you know, I believe it’s part of being a Baratheon, to love a Stark until our last—”.

His words were silenced by her lips over his.

At first, he thought he was day-dreaming, and stood still totally shocked. How could this be real? She, Arya Stark, was kissing him at his forge in Storm Lands. That only happened in his wildest dreams. But, then, he felt her moaning against his mouth, and his body finally seemed to catch up. His hands went to each side of her waist, bringing her closer, until their bodies crashed into each other’s, as his lips kissed hers with all the desire and passion he had been suppressing all these years, since she told him that she was no Lady to marry him.

“Gendry—” she growled as her back hit the wall, taking her hands to his jerkin, taking it off with a little of his help, the rest of their clothing following right after, and then sinking them in his dark hair, as her legs imprisoned him in between.

His hands went all over her body, remembering those curves he already knew, and memorizing those that were formed over the past years, while his lips decided to go south to kiss every piece of skin that was at reach in their position.

“Seven hells”, he cursed as he sunk in her, pressing his head to her shoulder, as he heard her cry out his name, feeling her nails on his back, leaving marks. “Arya—” his voice trembled, as he reached back at her mouth, kissing her with desperation, while their bodies danced against each other, until they succumbed to pleasure, saying each other’s name.

...

He looked behind his back, when one of the boys he was training to be a blacksmith pointed at the door, finding her there glaring at him, with a soft smile on her lips.

He smiled back at her.

That morning, when he woke up in his chambers, he had found the place on the bed next to him completely empty, making he think it had been all just a dream. But it couldn’t be, because he still felt her burning touch on his skin, and his mind could perfectly look back on the things they did down there at the forge, and then up at his featherbed, until very late at night.

He tousled the boy’s blonde hair.

“Go fetch something to eat, Den. You’ve made a great job today”, he told him, and saw his apprentice run to leave the forge, after making an awkward bow to his guest. He took off his apron, still smiling. “You woke up early”, he told her, as he cleaned the sweat off his face.

“I couldn’t leave any of the maids to find me in the lord’s chambers, it wouldn’t be proper” she said, and before he could argue that he didn’t care about what was or wasn’t proper, she continued speaking “Also, I wanted to walk around a little, know the place”, she responded, “I can’t stay in bed ‘til late”, she added, looking straight at his bare chest, lust lighting up her pupils. He noticed it, and then grinned.

Some things never change.

“And… did you like it?” he asked, as he put on a top with the colors of Baratheon emblem. She nodded as response, and he walked towards her to leave a soft kiss on her lips, that she responded caressing his face.

It might have lasted more than expected.

“You were teaching the kid how to forge?”, she asked him, as their lips pulled apart.

“Aye”, he replied, putting their foreheads together. “I teach some of them, so they can use it to bring some bread to their homes”.

“You’re a great Lord, Gendry”, she said, sounding proud. “I also heard you -I mean, the people from here- forge all kind of stuff for all Westeros, and the North. Even for the king of the six kingdoms, and the queen in the north, themselves”.

He smiled, and then shrugged.

“Your brother and sister have been very kind to the Stormlands, giving us some work to do”, he looked fondly at her eyes. “I just do what I know”.

,,,

He saw her by the window, looking at the sea, her hair untied dancing at the wind. She looked like a goddess standing there, her body only covered by a soft robe, that allowed him to notice her beautiful curves.

It hadn’t been the first time he had seen her like that, looking at the sea, like you look at something you desperately want.

He thought he knew Arya.

Well, he did.

He knew the girl who traveled with him across the king’s road, who took care of him and Hot Pie, and who had become in his only friend. But, he didn’t get to truly know the woman she had become during the little time they had shared in Winterfell, even if they were definitely very enlightening, or the one she had become after the war at King’s Landing, and her travels around the world.

However, he had done his best to try learn the most about her during the short time she had stayed in Storm’s End, and one of those things was her desire to travel the world, to never stay still, and so he knew their days together had an expiration date, and was trying to prepare himself for the day she decided to leave again.

“Stop staring, you weirdo”, she said, looking back at him.

He laughed, and then sat up on the bed.

“I’m not staring” he said, pretty much knowing that it was a lost argument.

“Yes, you are” she smiled at him, softly.

He sighed, suddenly becoming serious.

“It’s just…” he doubted, and then looked back at her eyes. “You miss it”, finally claimed, meaning the open sea, her trips.

She had been there with him for over a moon already, the same amount of time Ser Davos has been asking him if he was about to ask Lady Stark to marry him, and the time he has been avoiding the topic, telling the old man about another _important_ thing about the kingdom instead of answering his question.

He had decided to enjoy the moment, to forget about marriages and stuff like that, he doesn’t want his heart broken twice.

Even if she had told him that she loved him.

That day, they were sharing a walk at the beach, as the weather was nice to do such thing. They were completely soaked and sand covered for trying to prank each other when she said it. Well, he had started trying to throw her at the water, but she truly knows how to defend herself, and at the end they just had lied at the shore, laughing, and throwing sand to each other. And then, out of the blue, she had looked at him seriously and those three words came out of her lips.

That night, while they had made love, she had said it a couple more times.

But it was many days ago, and now, looking at her eyes he knew she was thinking about leaving. Again. And his heart broke a little because he also knew that he wouldn’t stop her.

“I do, I miss it”, she said, looking back at the sea, nostalgia in her pupils.

He stood and walked to the window, surrounding her from the back with his arms, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“When are you doing it?”, he finally said, Unable to hide the sadness in his voice. She raised her face and kissed his chin.

“Doing what?” she asked, and he looked down at her, not wanting to say those words.

“Leaving” he finally said, and she frowned.

“Why would I?” she asked, softly. “I’m home”.

His heart shuddered.

“But you miss it”, he insisted, avoiding getting his hopes up.

“But I would miss you more”, she turned around, hiding her face against his chest, filling her lungs with the smell of his skin, as she pressed her hands on his back, disappearing any space between them “Besides, I already saw it all… so, if I was about to sail somewhere, it would be so I could show you everything I found and that you deserve to see as well”.

Silence surrounded both of them, and he thought it was the best moment to make the damn question… but he didn’t want another rejection, so he didn’t.

She seemed to read his mind.

“Last time you asked I wasn’t ready, but… maybe, you can ask again”, she said, looking up at his eyes, blue meeting grey, giving him hope.

But, hope is dangerous. Last time he had been hopeful was when he was named lord, and accepted thinking that would be the only way she could be by his side, and seeing how everything turned out, he couldn’t trust hope. That’s why he didn’t ask right away after her words, he just kissed her, and felt his heart get warmer as she kissed him back.

“I love you”, he whispered, their lips only millimeters away, and she softly smiled at him, caressing his nape with her fingertips. “And, it’s because I love you, that I need you to know that the only thing I want is to be with you. I want to be your family, it doesn’t matter where or how it happens. If you want to sail away, then I will sail as well, these walls will never keep us trapped. Also, if you decide we should stay here, I won’t ever ask you to be something you are not. I made that mistake once, and that’s my biggest regret”. 

“Stupid bull”, she said, with a small laugh. “I love you too”, she took her hands to his cheeks, making him hold her sight.

_How many times have I left you in the deep?_

_I don't know why you still believe in me._

Many moons had passed since that morning, and he woke up to the light coming through the porthole of the cabin they shared in her ship, as they traveled back to Storm’s End.

They had been traveling for a while, leaving Davos to take care of everything in the meantime, as he was the only one Gendry trusted to make the right choices in their absence. First, they went to Essos, where she showed him some of the places she had loved from this continent, from the Titan in Braavos, to the massive Long Bridge of Volantis.

Then, they went to the North of Westeros, to Winterfell, where they visited Sansa and Jon, the latest having been pardoned from his life sentence at the wall by the Queen in the North herself, who said that the rules that prevailed in the rest of Westeros did not apply to the North, where Jon's services were required as the Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard, as Brienne had taken the same position at King Brandon’s council.

Gendry was glad for the man he considered his friend, even if their acquaintance hadn’t lasted more than the time they spent to get ready to fight the death, as the former King in the North had marched south to King’s Landing not long after it had ended.

But, he was also nervous to face Arya’s sibling, and tell him how he had met Arya the day Ned Stark had been beheaded in King’s Landing, and then traveled with her towards North intending to reach the wall, to reach him, only to be separated by the Red Priestess who took him away. How do you say a man that you lied to him, telling him that the only bond they shared was their supposed fathers’ friendship, when it was actually Arya, whose love for her brother made him swear to serve him after believing her dead as an oath to her memory? Or that, after seeing her again in Winterfell, he had fallen in love with her, and proposed, just to end up with a broken heart? Or even that, almost five years later, she had come back to him, and they had married, and he had put a babe in her womb? Yeah, he had a lot to catch up with his now good-brother.

But, everything had gone pretty well.

Jon had been glad to see his little sister happy, and didn’t threatened him for not telling him the truth then, only lamenting the fact he could have told Gendry that Arya was actually alive and back in Winterfell back then when they were in Dragonstone, if only he had told him the truth.

They had another wedding ceremony there in Arya’s homeland, this time in front of the Godswood, and respecting the Northern traditions. The first time had been in a Sept, surrounded by people that they barely knew. So, doing it again, with Arya’s family witnessing it, in the place where she had grown up, and in front of the old gods, seemed like the most appropriate decision to make. Sansa was glad to organize it, even if only a few number of people were invited, and Jon was glad to be the one to walk her to the tree where she would take her vows.

“You’re thinking too loud” she grunted.

He smiled down at her, finding her big grey eyes looking back at him, and a soft smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry, _my Lady_” he teased with a wide grin. “I didn’t mean to wake you up with my loud thoughts” he added, and she slapped his chest in response.

“Don’t call me that” she scolded him, but the smile on her face told him she didn’t care about that title, not anymore.

“Apologizes,” he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Old customs are hard to leave behind, specially that one” he gave her a playful smile, and she rolled her eyes.

He kissed her forehead.

“Though, I might call you something” he said, now leaving a kiss at the tip of her nose “something fitting for the likes of my lady wife” his lips found the crook of her neck, leaving light kisses on her skin.

She moaned.

“Idiot” she taunted, and he chuckled.

“I believe that’s not the way to call my lovely wife” he bit her shoulder blade, stealing another moan from her lips. “Besides, I believe you already use that one for me,” he looked up at her, and smiled noticing the spark of passion in her eyes.

She smiled back at him, and he couldn’t help reaching her lips with his own, kissing her slowly, making her shiver as one of his hands traveled down her body, to her growing belly. It had been barely visible when they arrived at Winterfell, but now there was no way to hide it.

“I love it when you call me wife,” she said, pulling away from his kiss, but joining their foreheads. She softly caressed his cheek, down to his chin. “Almost as much as when you call me Arry,” she smiled, remembering those times when she was disguised as a boy. They used to be sad memories, but not anymore, not when she decided to leave death behind and focusing on living. “Or when you call me love.” she approached his lips, and he kissed her back, his hand on her lower back pulling her closer.

They could stay like this forever.

“I love you,” he said, brushing a few strands of her face, as his other hand went back over her swollen belly, on top of the scars that used to make them think that their pack would only consist of the two of them.

She smiled, feeling happiness filling her.

“_I love you the most,_” she said, before pulling him into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was an One Shot I started writing right after the end of S8, but that my insecure self didn't let me publish until now. It's based of this song (The Most - Miley Cyrus), because back then I listened to it and I was like "Fuck, this is Gendrya" and so, words started coming to my head.
> 
> Hope you liked it, and you leave some comments. I really love to read you.


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